


The Pumpkin Brownie

by QueenyB



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, Fakiru Week, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenyB/pseuds/QueenyB
Summary: Once upon a time, a little Brownie went to visit a small farm for the autumn. She quietly went about her day, trying to make as little trouble as possible; however, she was soon spotted by the farmer's son.
Relationships: Ahiru | Duck/Fakir (Princess Tutu)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Fakiru Week 2020





	The Pumpkin Brownie

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this little fic for Fakiru Week 2020. The prompt was Pumpkin, and once I saw it I just couldn't get the idea of Ahiru living in a pumpkin out of my head, so here we are.

Ahiru looked at the pumpkin and grinned. It was huge, at least three times her height, and as round as a ball. It sat upright behind the shed and was shaded by the golden oak tree. It was actually perfect for a house. She knew that the Big, who lived nearby, left it for her. She and her family had been visiting this particular house for generations, and this Big was the best one she knew.

He was bigger than most Bigs, but kinder than them too. His hair was grey and he had a bright smile. He usually spent his days in the woodshop working, and at night he would leave a bit of milk for any Brownies in the area with a little too much energy to spare. 

Brownies were known for helping with little chores around the house, but that was mostly because they had a hard time sitting still. Most took to helping the neighboring Bigs with chores, and getting the spare bowl of sugar or milk wasn’t bad in terms of compensation. Ahiru really liked helping, but she wasn’t great at it, so she figured she would do her best to help the Big sweep the workshop. 

Until then… Ahiru rolled up her sleeves and set to work hollowing out the pumpkin. 

#

Fakir reached up and over, trying to crack the kink in his back, and heard a satisfying crackle. He stood and wandered into the kitchen to get a cup of tea. Suddenly, Karon walked in from the workshop, shaking stray leaves from his coat and onto the wooden floor. He walked over and threw a log on the fire. 

“I don’t know how you can work like that,” he said quietly, taking note of Fakir’s thin, loose shirt and simple pants. “And not maintain the fire.” 

Fakir poured the old man a cup of tea and set it on the table while he helped Karon settle into his chair. “You don’t need to worry about me. I feel fine,” he replied. 

“You’re going to catch a cold,” Karon insisted. He took a sip of the warm drink and winced, it was still a little too hot. “Did you get much work done?”

Fakir nodded. “The chapter is almost done. I should be able to send it to the magazine by the deadline.”

“That’s good. How long is this one going to be?” 

“I planned seven more chapters.”

A lock of Karon’s hair fell into his face as he nodded. “That’s good. Any ideas for your next story?” 

“Not yet,” Fakir admitted, taking a drink. 

Karon stood up and patted Fakir on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. I’m going to head to bed. Good night.” 

“Good night.” 

Karon walked to his room and shut the door quietly. Fakir sat and watched the fire for a while. It was warm on his face, and the tea made him feel warm inside. Before he knew it, his head was lolling and he had passed out. 

The scratching is what woke him. It was faint, but close to his desk, two facts that caused him to bolt upright in his seat. A flash of bright orange caught his eye, but it disappeared under the door as he stood and walked over to the desk. His papers were stacked haphazardly, and some ink had been dribbled onto the surface. He wiped it up before it dried, but he couldn’t figure out what could have done this. 

#

“It was probably one of the Brownies,” Karon answered in the morning. 

Fakir cocked an eyebrow. “A Brownie? Like a fairy?”

“The fair folk are nothing to scoff at, Fakir,” Karon cautioned. “And yes. They visit every year around this time. I was getting worried because they’ve never come this late before.”

“So this… Brownie, came in and messed up my desk?”

“It was probably trying to help. Maybe it’s a young one?” 

Fakir frowned. “It will be back, I take it?”

“Probably. They usually come in at night and do a chore or two. We should leave out some milk tonight for them.” At Fakir’s pointed look, he elaborated. “To thank them.” 

#

Ahiru hummed quietly as she danced around her little pumpkin house. The Old Big had a friend! How wonderful. She had seen the new Big sleeping in front of the fire last night. He was smaller than the Old Big, and his hair was the same color as evergreen needles, though his skin was a bit darker. 

She had crawled on the desk and tried stacking the paper and sweeping away the sand, but she accidentally bumped into the inkwell and spilled a little. She was going to clean it up, but then the Big woke up and she had to leave. She wasn’t ready to be seen by the Bigs quite yet. Maybe it would be smarter for her to stay away from the house, and focus on the woodshop. 

Though, she looked at the pumpkin seeds on the walls and the goop on the ceiling and decided that she wanted to finish her house before going back into the Big’s space. 

#

The next morning, Fakir was walking through the garden when he nearly stepped in a pile of pumpkin innards. He growled and looked around for a broken pumpkin. He didn’t see any, but the one growing near the shed, the one that Karon had slaved over all summer, had a hole carved in the front. 

Fakir stomped over and nearly had his hands on the pumpkin when Karon appeared out of the shed and hauled him away. 

“Leave it alone,” Karon said. 

“Why? Someone broke onto your property and started carving up your produce.”

“And flinging the pumpkin is going to change that?” Karon raised an eyebrow. 

Fakir grumbled. “Well… no, not exactly. But I wanted… to make sure they hadn’t carved anything bad.” 

“Probably just some doors and windows,” he replied, shrugging. Fakir looked at him questioningly, so he elaborated. “The Brownie’s usually live in one of the pumpkins for the season. I started leaving out a good one a few years ago.”

“So the Brownie that messed up my desk is living in the pumpkin?” 

Karon nodded. “Probably. Either way, I wasn’t planning on selling that one.” 

#

As the full moon rose, Fakir was halfway through editing his chapter. The mail carrier would arrive tomorrow, and he had to make sure it was done. He stretched and walked to the kitchen for another cup of tea. He paused when he saw a tiny girl standing on Karon’s shoes by the door. 

She was about the size of his index finger and wore a dress that looked as if it were made out of a piece of brown scrap fabric. It was frayed and didn’t fit exactly right, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She continued to use a small piece of cloth to polish the dirt off of Karon’s shoe, and Fakir couldn’t help but stare. Brownies were real? 

He watched her work, slowly finishing the first shoe and fixing her ginger braid before moving onto the next one. It looked grueling, but she did all of it with a smile. When she was done, she trotted over to the saucer of milk that Karon had left out, took a few small sips using her hands as a cup, and leaned back, seemingly satisfied. She crawled under the kitchen door and disappeared into the garden. 

Fakir checked Karon’s shoes, they were spotty and honestly not very good. He chuckled. She had given it her all, but the shoes weren’t much better than when she started. Not that there was much she could have done, he’d been wearing them for years and wasn’t very good with upkeep himself. 

Fakir grabbed the dish from the floor and washed it quickly before getting his tea and returning to work. 

#

She came every night after that. If not in the house, then in the workshop. She tried sweeping, mending, general cleaning, pretty much anything that didn’t involve her using water. He learned that she did, indeed, live in the pumpkin next to the shed, and had even peeked in it once. She had cleaned it out, but left nicks in the fleshy part of the pumpkin. He chuckled, doing the job haphazardly was certainly like her. 

“Karon,” he started one night. “About the Brownies, why haven’t you just built them a little house near the shed? Then you wouldn’t have to waste a pumpkin every year.” 

Karon tapped his chin. “You know, I never thought of that. I’ll see what I can put together. Maybe the Brownie that we have this year will stick around if we give them a house.” 

Fakir nodded. He wouldn’t mind if the Brownie stuck around, he rather enjoyed watching her work. 

#

When Ahiru woke one afternoon, she was surprised to see a little house sitting next to her pumpkin. 

“Did someone move in?” she murmured. She approached it slowly. It was so weird to climb stairs the way the Bigs did, one step after the other instead of hauling her whole body up a step. Is this what the Bigs felt like all the time? 

She knocked on the small wooden door, but she didn’t hear anything, so she cracked it open. She found herself inside a kitchen, or at least, something like a kitchen. There was a counter, and a wooden basin, and a very sturdy table, considering its size. Amazed, she kept walking through the house. There was a living room, with a little fireplace, a couple of bedrooms with beds fashioned from wool, and a small study with a miniature desk and chair. 

“Do you like it?” she heard a voice outside. Ahiru looked out the window and saw the Young Big sitting next to the shed holding a board with paper on it. 

_ Who was he talking to? _ she wondered. She didn’t see anybody. 

“Hello?” He stuck a quill in the window and wiggled it. It hit Ahiru square in the stomach and she giggled. “I’m talking to you.” 

Ahiru darted out the door and stood in front of the house to look up at the Big. 

“You knew I was out here?” she asked, trying to make her voice as loud as she could. 

He nodded. “What’s your name?” 

“Ahiru!” 

He placed his hand on the ground and nodded at her to climb on. Slowly, she was lifted into the air and set on the edge of his board. “There, that should help with the yelling,” he said quietly. “I’m Fakir, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Fakir.” 

#

From that day on, the Brownie and the Writer became good friends. She was welcomed inside to sit on his desk during the winter, and helped him stay organized as best she could. And he often spent his spring and summer outside, writing alongside the garden or nearby pond while she ran through the flowers and vegetables. 

It was an unconventional friendship, to be sure, but a good one. 


End file.
